


Be My Safety

by Mx_Axolotl



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), The Path (TV)
Genre: Cal Roberts Deserves Better, Fix-It, Kid fic (sort of), Le Chiffre Will See To That, M/M, Path Royale, brief mentions of past child abuse, mentions of spoilers for The Path, more implied than mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mx_Axolotl/pseuds/Mx_Axolotl
Summary: After all Cal has endured, he decides to take Forest and run.And he knows exactly who to run to...





	Be My Safety

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NightmareAntlers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightmareAntlers/gifts).



> Thank you to NightmareAntlers for cheering me on & inspiring me to write my first Path Royale fic! You're enthusiasm & encouragement have not gone unnoticed nor been taken lightly. :') 
> 
> This may become a series since I had so much fun writing this little blurb. The pair's dynamics and finding their voices & developing them in my head was really fulfilling in a way & I definitely want to explore this AU more... because I am also a HUGE sucker for kid!fic. Especially get together. But ESPECIALLY especially get BACK together kid!fic. Okay. So think of this as me testing the waters for future purposes - it might get re-written/worked into that or just inserted later on down the line. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy your read!

Cal had tried. Truly, but everyone wanted so much from him and where he’d once thought that the emptiness inside himself had been replenished to whole, it turned out it was all an illusion. He was still a husk. He wasn’t the man they needed— the man they _wanted_.

 

So he’d ran.

 

Ran like he hadn’t been able to long ago. Far and away from Steve and the toxicity of his home.

 

Eddie was the Chosen Son. Cal could feel it in his bones as sure as he’d felt the Light. Let Eddie and his Redeemed Meyerists handle the Movement. Let Sarah handle the ladder and the pieces he’d nearly shattered it into. He couldn’t be exceptional for her, not like he used to be. Too much time and shit had transpired for him to ever hope to regain an iota of the peace he’d felt around her when they were young.

 

And Mary… this angel was no better. Like Sarah, like his mother, they all asked things of him that they knew he was incapable of accomplishing. They would merely watch as the rug was pulled out from under him before he even got to plant his feet on it. One disappointment after another, one day late after the next; it all felt like Steve over and over again.

 

So he’d ran.

 

Woken up in the middle of the night and packed a bag of essentials and been halfway into his car when he’d frozen, breathing on the verge of erratic and not due to his behavior. Nine months and Forest had been the unexpected ray of _true_ light in his life. A chance to do right, true and unconditional right, and maybe a little foolishly he’d thought that by being there for _his_ son, like his dad and then his chosen father-figure hadn’t, there might be a chance for his own redemption. That he could save himself by saving Forest. Mary would be heartbroken, yes – as manipulative as she’d turned out to be, she loved her son. Cal would have to live with that, but of all the things he would have to live with anyway, that seemed like the least heaviest to carry.

 

With Forest in his carrier behind him, Cal drove out of the Compound and away. At first he didn’t know where he’d go. It was too late to buy supplies other than what was already on hand and he needed to get enough distance between himself and the Compound that he could check into a motel and not worry about someone pounding a fist on his door. Cal was grateful that Forest slept through most of the journey, unsure if he would have been able to comfort a disquieted infant and his own traitorous mind.

 

The clerk at the motel had given him a look when he’d juggle his bag and the baby carrier but given him a key and blandly informed him that HBO would cost extra. It hardly mattered to him, as soon as he’d closed and locked the door a panic attack gripped him.

 

It was Silas all over again. Having to dig up his corpse in the woods. It was the City Center. Figuring out how he would pay for a building he overbid on. It was the aftermath of that. Sarah’s blackmail and the FBI investigation… Eddie seeing Steve and Steve declaring him his true _son_  before dying.

 

As if attuned to his father’s distress, Forest let out a wail that cut through the thick blanket of anxiety shrouding his mind and clogging his throat. Cal came back to himself, a little numbly at first and gasping for breath, but soon enough with a presence of mind that necessitated soothing his child and making sure he was all right.

 

Hours later, Forest settled with a new diaper and a full stomach, Cal registered that he hadn’t gotten a minute of sleep as the new day dawned behind the washed out curtains. Blankly, he stared at them. At the soft glow behind them as if it would provide answers he was too afraid to voice the questions to. Then, after what felt like even more hours, a voice told him whom he needed to call. It’d sounded like the same voice that had told him to run, to escape and free himself.

 

(It might have sounded ridiculous at the time, with how many people regularly occupied his mind, but he’d later realize that the voice had sounded like his own.)

 

Another fifteen minutes of calming and thinking through what he’d say, as well as gently rocking Forest when he gave a series of huffs, Cal dialed the number he could never forget. He waited for the familiar, unanswered four tones before warmth spread outward from deep within his bones, nose to toes and everywhere in between, when a rich voice answered.

 

“Jean?” All the confidence he’d managed to dredge up left him in a rush as his eyes grew blurry and his voice trembled. It was a feat to count the seconds of stunned silence on the other end as just that and not hang up from second guessing his decision.

 

“Cal.” He could hear the thickness in the other man’s voice, the deepening of his accent. He’d missed the way Jean said his name; it was the last straw that broke the floodgates. Cal gasped as his chest ached and tears flowed.

 

“I-I need your help… _please_ , Jean… I need you.”

 

~*~

 

Cal hadn’t expected to be back in Le Chiffre’s orbit so soon – if the time lapse between their encounters could have been filed under _soon_ – but so little had changed from the last time he’d been in the man’s home. The mansion was still as vast and minimalist as ever yet he only felt warmth where he knew others would feel cold.

 

He’d been picked up at the motel, a black SUV as discreet as possible. At least the driver didn’t make small talk, just asked if those were all the bags he had and if the room needed to be paid for. Cal had held Forest throughout the ride, head lolling to rest against his son’s at one point, both lulled by the motion of the car. The driver notified him when they’d arrived and the rest carried on with the same unquestioned, efficient air. One thing could always be said about Le Chiffre’s men, they never asked if it wasn’t strictly necessary.

 

At least the arrival at the mansion had calmed one thing from Cal’s mind – not needing to worry about anyone from the Neo-Meyerists (because, in his mind, they had evolved) Movement tracking him and his son down, let alone getting past the place’s security. Accommodations and supplies were also off the list, a personal assistant assuring the ex-leader that anything he or Forest might need only be asked for and it would be sought to. Clothes, food, baby necessities, no matter the specificity it would be brought. That was so very Le Chiffre, caring for his… whatever Cal was to him anymore, a memory perhaps…. And treating them like gold. Even for as briefly as they’d been together, he’d never been treated like anything other than the most deserving person in Jean’s world. Cal began to wonder why he’d left in the first place.

 

(Sarah. Always Sarah. After he’d fixed the mess with his over purchase of the City Center by fateful encounter after fateful encounter with Le Chiffre, he’d gotten into trouble with the back payments and by then Mary’s pregnancy and her attitude had him shying away from the one person who truly seemed to give a damn about _him_. Then from Mary to Sarah and he’d gone back to fucking it all up…)

 

In fact, the one piece missing from the picture was the elusive man himself. Upon asking the house staff, however, all he got in response was ‘away.’

 

“Mr. Le Chiffre left for business this morning while you were en route.” Said the chauffeur.

 

“There was business in the city needing his attention.” Answered one of his personal assistants.

 

“It didn’t sound urgent, Mr. Roberts, so I imagine you could expect him back in a day or two.” Was the most generous reply he’d gotten from one of the household staff. An almost matronly woman who had patted his arm and smiled at him like he wished his mother might have.

 

Whatever the answer or explanation he received it all sounded like a polite way of saying ‘avoidance.’ Not that he could blame the man. Their last encounter had been Cal calling Jean and very curtly, very haltingly and with much false authority, telling Le Chiffre that they could no longer continue their affair since his contributions, while appreciated, would mean little if he continued to deny joining the movement in a more dedicated way. Cal was the Guardian of the Light and he needed to be an exceptional example for his people.

 

As soon as he’d hung up, a panic attack had gripped him so fiercely that he’d relapsed with alcohol. The only reason Sarah hadn’t gotten a hold of the banker for her blackmail against the FBI investigation had been because they didn’t have any paper record of Le Chiffre, a small mercy at the time. Now, though, the only thing keeping him from repeating that poor tactic of self-medication was his son.

 

“I’ll figure this out for us. I promise.” Cal murmured to the baby, settling him down in the crib one of the house attendants had assembled for them. “I won’t screw this up. I will be better. For you… And for me.”

 

Forest’s cheeks twitched before his mouth curved up in a gummy smile, every bit the trusting soul.

 

~*~

 

Cal was slow to wake, feeling the weight of sleep deep in his bones, making him realize how long it had been since he’d truly rested well. All it took was the memory of some form of safety to lull his mind and body enough for natural processes to function. Sighing softly, he kept his eyes closed, letting his body gradually come to.

 

A soft shift of something on the wood floor had him starting, however, the luxury of laziness abandoned. If there was one thing that had been constant in the two weeks he and Forest has been at the mansion it was the quiet of the place – every sound had an origin and was purposeful. Not out of order. The suddenness of unfamiliarity was striking.

 

His first instinct was to turn to Forest’s crib and the sight that greeted him arrested both his breath and heartbeat.

 

“He was beginning to fuss. I did not want it to disturb your sleep.” Le Chiffre’s voice was soft, his expression carefully controlled as he held Forest to his chest.

 

Cal blinked, mouth opening and closing a little dumbly. The Algerian, dressed as impeccably as ever, sans jacket, cradled his son with the kind of care that really only came from experience; one arm supporting the small body with ease, as his free hand was given over for the boy’s curiosity. Forest currently had the mathematician’s fingers gripped in his fists as he tested their bending stay. One whiskey colored eye watched the Meyerist as he regained some composure, scooting to the side of the bed and sitting with his hands in his lap, ready for fidgeting.

 

“It’s about time for his lunch.” He managed a little raspy crack halfway through. Jean nodded and after a pause, approached Cal to hand over his child. Thankful for the task of getting Forest situated, then standing to get the prepared bottle, he was able to sort his thoughts.

 

“They said you might not be back for longer.” Tipping the bottle over, Forest took control, all Cal had to do was make sure it went smoothly. “I… I wasn’t sure if you’d want us here when—”

 

“I said you had shelter here. My presence does not change that fact.” Le Chiffre cut in, still watching Cal and the easy, automatic gentle sway he adopted as the child fed. “For however long you need.”

 

“We shouldn’t be long. I just need to get things in order, get somewhere… safe.” As if they weren’t already, but with Jean back, he was suddenly not so confident of his place there. “Then we’ll be out of your hair-”

 

“ _Cal_.”

 

Wincing only slightly – a remarkable feat considering how much that gentle tone still managed to cut him open to the core – Cal’s mouth turned down and his brows wrinkled as he turned to face Le Chiffre.

 

He’d moved closer, one arm raised as if to turn him, should he have stayed still. Jean settled it on Cal’s elbow instead, the one cradling Forest as if to help support him and it shouldn’t have brought stinging tears so quickly to his eyes but there they were. Cal breathed in slowly, trying to calm himself.

 

“Let me help.” His gaze was so sure. Grounding and strong and it’d been so, _so_ long since he’d felt that with anything. _Anyone_. All Cal wanted to do was give it all up to this man, just like he’d tried to do before but gotten so scared of that knowledge, that feeling. “ _Please_ …”

 

Le Chiffre’s other hand came up at that moment and brushed at Cal’s cheek. He let out a small breath, the plea causing his tears to finally fall. Forest whimpered and Cal sniffed, adjusting his son as a reassurance to him that everything was all right but he knew those big eyes were taking it all in. Le Chiffre didn’t move, just stayed as he was with the other man, thumb caressing his cheek.

           

“Yes.” It was choked and quiet, said more to the boy in his arms than the man in front of him but the grip on his elbow tightened in a squeeze and he looked up. Something in Le Chiffre’s expression had softened, too, the scar across his milky eye not taking away an ounce of emotion from the look.

 

“Good.” Nodding, Le Chiffre shifted, hesitantly at first but Cal let the worry go for the moment. His body relaxing as the taller man wrapped an arm around his waist, careful not to jostle Forest as he did. Cal didn’t let himself melt into the contact like he desperately wanted to – _maybe later_ , a hopeful, small, part of his mind told him, the same part that had encouraged him to get away from the Meyerists – but it was a close thing. Le Chiffre simply stayed like that, a support for Cal to lean on, until Forest’s bottle was finished and he needed to be burped.

 

“I will have the chef prepare your preferred meal and we can discuss what you need done.” It was the closest he came to saying that he would do any bidding Cal needed doing since everything he or Forest had physically needed had already been seen to. It was also the closest he’d come to saying that he could expect his favorite meal to be on the table – the fact that Le Chiffre remembered it at all after so long.

 

He stepped away, slipping into his jacket as Cal put his son back into his crib. Cal was sorry for the loss of contact but felt a bit revived.

 

“Thank you,” Cal swallowed, straightening and once again facing the other in the doorway. “Jean.”

 

Le Chiffre’s chest expanded with a sharp inhale, the corner of his mouth twitching as if it wanted to curl up into a soft smile. Cal knew because the expression reached his eyes if not his mouth – something, as far as he knew, he was one of a privileged few to be able to witness it. Le Chiffre nodded once, almost turning it into an informal bow before he left, closing the door with a soft click.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
